Birds Are Not Meant To Be Caged, For The Caged Bird Sings Of Freedom
by alaskanbirdfriend
Summary: Sam's perception of reality is definitely jarred. A sequel to Trust Takes Years To Build, But Seconds To Break. Part 3 of my Speak Of The Devil And He Shall Appear series.


Sam hasn't been sleeping well for the past few days, but _God_ , at least he sleeps.

Nightmares invade his mind at every turn, sure, but at least it's not slowly dying from lack of sleep because of hallucinations. And for that, he's thankful.

 _It's not something he should be thankful for._

 _But Sam would rather feel his eyes getting ripped out of their sockets than face a taunting Devil for each agonizing step he takes._

Lucifer hasn't interacted with him at all, surprisingly, not since the conversation in the cabin.

 _For all the bad things the Devil does, he sure is good at torture._

Sam picks up a small journal he had taken with him from the bunker. He doesn't really know why he brought it, but if there's one thing hunting has taught him, it's be prepared for anything.

Sam sits down on a tree stump, sitting far away at the back of the camp, shaded by big oak trees, almost like covering him, _hiding him, keeping him away from the Devil,_ and begins to sketch out angelic wards he had seen on his way here.

They didn't stop Lucifer, of course.

 _He wishes they had._

Sam finishes the third symbol when he hears footsteps behind him. He nearly whirls around in terror, nearly jumps out of his seat, because for a second _it sounds like Lucifer, with his self-righteous smirk and his pride-filled stance._

 _It sounds like evil with feet._

But then the feeling vanishes as quickly as it comes, and he relaxes because he's heard those familiar footsteps for as long as he can remember.

 _If you don't count the five thousand years in the cage, of course._

His brother, _Dean Winchester, The Righteous Man,_ steps out from behind him and stands there, glancing between Sam and the symbols being drawn onto the paper. His arms are crossed, but not angry, only guarded. He's frowning in concern.

"Hey, Sammy." He says it so softly that for a second, Sam doesn't believe he's in the cage any longer. But then it quickly crashes back down, with _all to play my part? of course, I would_ echoing in his ears. Dean continues speaking.

"Are you okay?"

Sam pauses what he's doing, the pencil stilling in his hand. He can hear his brother shifting uncomfortably, waiting for his answer.

Sam wants to look up at Dean and ask him, _are you even real?_

But he can't, because if it _is_ real _,_ then Dean will be worried, then everyone will be worried, _except for Lucifer,_ and they won't be focused on fighting Michael, and then they'll never win this war.

 _If this Michael isn't just a creation of the Devil's thoughts._

 _Sam remembers the Michael in his nightmares. He remembers when Michael's mind broke. He remembers a glowing mass of wings and heads mumbling words that made no sense._

But this is not that Michael. They already defeated that Michael.

And so Sam turns to face his brother with a tired, broken smile on his face, _and he can feel the circles under his eyes like they're digging into his skin, digging like hooks, digging like knives,_ and he nods.

"Yeah, Dean, I'll be fine." _What a lie._ Sam raises a hand when his brother protests.

"Just go do whatever you were doing before. I'll be here if you need me."

 _Sam had already talked with Dean when he had stumbled into the camp, and at that point, it was to get away from Lucifer, and he wanted to cut off the leash wrapped around his neck._

 _But he doesn't think he can get away now._

Dean doesn't relax, he can tell, but he listens to Sam because that's all Sam wants right now. _To be alone._

And so Dean nods, unsure, and wanders off to help keep an eye on Lucifer.

 _Keep him away from Sam, perhaps. But there's no keeping away the Devil._

Sam watches him go and never stops repeating the endless mantra in his head.

 _Still in the cage. Still in the cage. Still in the cage. Still in the cage._

And it seems the Devil has done his job.


End file.
